Mixed Blessings
by illuminata79
Summary: Mick is about to take a large step towards the realization of his and Nell's dreams, but as these things go, it comes at a certain cost. A story in two chapters.
1. A Mixed Blessing

Sometimes big chances in life go hand in hand with big challenges or sacrifices. Mick gets a good job opportunity but there are some serious downsides.

The title song is "Wind Took My Sail" by Sophie Zelmani. The lyrics don't fit the story 100% - but there will always be a bit of wind in Mick Carpenter's sail, at least at this stage of his life, and he'll always be happy to be swept along with the waves and the wind to see what will happen ...

_I don't understand why I'm leaving you  
I don't understand what I'm doing  
Must follow what has gone from you  
Over sea it is moving_

_I don't know what's gonna meet me there  
I don't know where I'm going  
All I find is that my heart's not here  
If I stay, you'll be lonely_

_The sail got wind in it and  
I need to see where it goes  
Yes the wind took my sail and I  
Need to go where it blows_

* * *

„That's settled, then. See you at the _Liberté_ on the first of August." Monsieur Jaffré shook my hand and I left his small office at the company's headquarters by the Brest docks with a polite greeting and mixed feelings about what I'd just done.

I had been sailing up and down the Atlantic coast for more than a year with various cargo carriers in the small fleet of Le Bihan, a familial, up-and-coming shipping company in Brest, toiling as hard as I could, knowing that our officers were usually generous in recommending a good worker for a pay raise or even a promotion.

Weatherby, the seasoned third mate from Jersey who had been my superior aboard the _Comte d'Anjou, _had encouraged me to apply for a better position. "You're a born sailor if I've ever seen one", he told me, "and it'd be a shame if you remained a lowly deckhand. You're not afraid of hard work, you've got a clever head on your shoulders, and I think you'll make a good boatswain or more once you're a couple of years older. I'll have a word with Claude when we're back in Brest. I might have an idea what to do with you."

As I found out, Claude Jaffré was the person in charge of hiring personnel for the new overseas service the company was setting up. They were planning a co-operation with a shipping company in Boston. The first overseas carrier, a cargo vessel that would also take on a few passengers, was supposed to be launched in August, and there were still a few vacancies to be filled among the crew. They were lacking able seamen, and although I didn't have the formal training, they were ready to rely on Weatherby's recommendation and take me on as a day worker for the _Liberté's _maiden trip across the Atlantic.

The only bad thing about this was that I'd be away for the best part of six months, as we weren't only going to make the journey across the ocean and back but sail on down the US coast from Boston to drop off and pick up goods and passengers at several other ports on that side of the Atlantic before we'd go back east.

I wasn't too keen on being away for such a long time, but the pay was very good, much better than what I currently earned, which meant we could finally afford to settle down in our own home. Additionally, the promotion would be helpful in getting a good job when I came back, preferably back aboard one of the carriers operating solely on the European Atlantic coast, but in a better-respected and better-paid position so it would take just another year or two until I could buy my fishing boat and be my own master once and for all.

Images of a golden future with a happy and contented Nell in a little house on the coast flashed through my mind, a bustling, lively home with two or three kids hopping about.

Accepting this job meant taking a huge step towards the future we were dreaming of, and I was so fed up with waiting, so eager to put that ring on Nellie's finger and move into a small home of our own, that I didn't actually think twice.

Still, I wasn't looking forward to telling her that she would have to do without me for almost half a year before our big dream would come true. She had borne my earlier absences with forced patience, but she had always been unhappy that my new job didn't permit me to return home every night. We'd had many a tense conversation about the subject, with her asking if I couldn't just have taken up some totally different kind of job after leaving Jean-Luc's services.

"Nellie darling, don't you cry. I'm not going away to spite you, but if we ever want to get married, we'll need a bit of money, and what little Jean-Luc has been able to pay me, if at all, just isn't enough to bring us out of here any time soon", I had said to her when she'd been seeing me off shiny-eyed the last time I left.

"Yes, but … you're so great at working with your hands, you could be doing anything – help on a farm or work at some factory in Brest or at a craftsman's workshop in one of the villages", she had replied tearfully. "Anything that would allow you to come home every night."

"I know it's hard to comprehend for you, but I want to earn my living my way. It's what I love and what I've always done best. I'd go mad in a workshop or a factory. The sea is my life, Nellie love."

She looked up at me, half exasperated, half indulgent. "Oh yes, I know, Mick, I know. It's not blood you've got flowing through your veins, it's salt water."

I smiled wryly at the memory, adjusted the strap of my knapsack that was about to slip off my shoulder and walked off towards the bus station.

On the bus home, I tried to think of the right words to explain my decision to Nell. I knew I had to be prepared to dry some more of her tears, and I hoped fervently she'd come to understand me in the end and hang in there until we'd finally be together.

Her father would probably be glad to be rid of me for a while. He had grudgingly come to give his consent when I had officially asked for his daughter's hand, and, incredibly, had not touched her again since then, at least not that I knew, but there was still no love lost between us, and I doubted he would ever truly accept me as his son-in-law.

He had tried to keep us under his thumb by suggesting we should get married quickly and live at his house after the wedding, but I had firmly objected to that. The idea of living in cramped provisional quarters in the Kervennecs' tiny attic, under the same roof as this violent, abusive man and his troubled wife, gave me the shivers. I had insisted that we needed our own home, however small, before we got married.

Lost in thought and a little worried how she would take it, I had no eye for the beauty of the landscape the bus was slowly travelling through. I dropped off my bag at Jean-Luc's where I was still lodging when I wasn't at sea and set out for Nell's right away.

Luckily, her father was on duty at the lighthouse, and only she and her mother were home, busy mending and darning in the quadrangle of light that came in through the kitchen window, when I knocked and entered. Both Nell and her mother's faces brightened when they saw me. Madame Kervennec, who was obviously enjoying a good day for once, greeted me quite fondly and looked on with a barely perceptible smile when Nell gave me a welcome kiss.

"Can we go for a walk?" I asked her in a low voice. "There's something we need to talk about."

Nell stiffened a bit in apprehension.

"Don't worry, Nellie. It's nothing grave. I'm not calling off the engagement or anything."

"Don't say such beastly things!" she scolded, shaking her head. "That's nothing to joke about."

I told her a few amusing anecdotes about my last stint aboard the _Comte _as we walked and held back about the _Liberté _until we had arrived at the abbey ruins and were standing by the low enclosure, facing the sea, as we had done so many times before when we had something serious to discuss.

Leaning forward, my folded arms resting on top of the wall, I said casually, "I think we can finally set our wedding date now."

She cocked her head and looked at me questioningly. "Can we?" she said, raising her eyebrows a little doubtfully.

"Yes, it's true, Nellie. We can get married next spring, if you want to. Wouldn't May be a lovely month?"

"Oh, _yes_", she said emphatically. "But I thought … what …"

"You know I spoke to Alain Leterrier last time I was home, who is prepared to sell us the little cottage on the edge of the village at a reasonable price if we promise to buy before the next summer. I just knew you'd love it there first time I laid eyes on the cottage, but I didn't think I could do it. But today I had an interesting meeting with the hiring guy at Le Bihan. They're offering me a promotion and a job that pays a lot more, so we'll indeed be able to afford the purchase, and in time, too."

I paused for a moment to study her face.

Her incredulous smile and her long-lashed eyelids fluttering in happy surprise made me hate myself in advance for the inevitable disappointment she was certainly going to feel when she learned about the downside of the rosy picture I had just painted.

"Oh, Mick", she whispered. "I can't quite believe it yet. I thought we were in for another year or two of waiting. Next spring – that's not even a year to go!"

"Right", I said, hesitant. "Although … there will be some other kind of waiting involved. They're taking me on for the new overseas service they're setting up. This means … well, this means I'll be away for a while … a bit longer than usual … quite a bit, in fact."

"Oh." Her face fell. "And … how much longer?"

"A bit over five months all in all. We're supposed to …"

"_Five months?" _she cried, crestfallen. "Five months without you? No, Mick, no, that's just too much." She turned away from me, her hands spread wide on the top the wall, her back rigid. I sensed that she was trying very hard not to break into tears.

"Nellie …" I put a hesitant hand on her back. She didn't shake it off but didn't react in any way either.

"I don't want you to go", she murmured defiantly. "Isn't there any other possibility?"

"No, Nellie, you know there isn't, not now that I've signed on. It's only for a while after all."

"But … couldn't they have given you a promotion to a job at the port or at the office or something?" she asked doggedly, turning back to face me.

"Oh, Nell." I sighed. "We have talked about this so often. You know I wasn't made for a desk job. I'd have stayed here fishing if there had been anyone ready to employ me, but there's no one in the village who'd have me except Jean-Luc who can't pay me more than a pittance. And you know I want to do a job I love", I said, feeling terribly selfish.

I knew I wouldn't possibly be able to make her see just how much it meant to me to be out at sea, how badly I needed to feel the rolling deck beneath my feet and the gusty wind ruffling my hair and the thin gritty crust the salty air left on my skin. And, if I was honest, while I hated being separated from Nell, I found it quite appealing to escape the scrutiny of the villagers, who still eyed me rather warily, for a while.

"And we don't want to lose the chance of getting our hands on that cottage, do we? It's perfect for us, small but so lovely. We'll finally have a home of our own, Nellie! We're actually rather lucky that I got the job offer at such a convenient time. I wouldn't have thought I'd be able to get the money together fast enough."

"But … maybe … yes, I know the cottage is a dream, but we might find another a little later and you could stick with what you're doing now. You know Father would let us live at our place for a while. That room in the attic is rather big and we aren't using it anyway. We could get married right away and move in there for now and you wouldn't have to go …"

"That's all fine, except that I thought I'd made it quite clear that I definitely _don't_ want us to live our married life under your father's watch!" I exclaimed in a sudden rush of anger. "You know I want to marry you, very much so ... with all my heart", I went on a little softer. "But you also know that there are a couple of ... well, conditions that are essential for me: we'll have our own home, and I get to choose my job for myself."

I was painfully aware that my tone had been too harsh. She dissolved into tears finally, stung and disappointed, and walked away to sit on the low crumbled wall inside the apse of the ruined church.

"Damn", I murmured, closing my eyes and running a hand over my face. I felt I had pretty much blown it.

I leaned on the enclosure again and stared into the sea for a long while, brooding.

I couldn't help being quite weary of discussing the issue. I had long before shelved my initial idea of moving further away, maybe even going back to the States, when I'd realized that she wouldn't be able to bear living a long distance from her family and her hometown, despite her occasional wish to leave it all behind.

I, on the other hand, wouldn't have minded living in some place that was new for both of us. Whether we had made our home here or in Maine, one of us would always have remained a stranger to the locals, so I'd have preferred to make a completely fresh start elsewhere, living in peace without anyone interfering. But I didn't want to uproot her against her own volition, so we had more or less agreed on the compromise of furnishing our own little home somewhere in or near the village.

I could see why she was not happy about the prospect of almost half a year of separation ahead - neither was I - but why did she keep referring to her father's "offer" again and again when she knew I hated the thought? Why couldn't she understand that there was one thing I treasured more than most everything – independence – and that _she_ was the only person I wanted to share my life with? Why wasn't she glad at the chance of escaping her father?

Finally, I swallowed my irritation and went over to where she was still perched in the same place, silently raging to judge from the look in her eyes, sat down next to her and said quietly, "Don't be mad at me, Nell, please. You know how I feel, I've explained it often enough, and you know I can't help it. I'm sorry for being so cross with you, though. I didn't mean to yell at you." I touched her cheek a little gingerly.

"Then just don't, next time." Her tone was gruff but her face had softened.

"I promise I won't." I squeezed her hand and said calmly, "But there's something I really need you to understand. I want _you, _and perhaps one day our kids, to be a fixture in our married life, but nobody else."

"Do you mean … you're not making me choose between you and my family, are you? That would be cruel."

"No, of _course_ not. I'd never force you to choose me over your folks. I certainly don't want you to dissociate yourself from your family or anything, not at all. It's basically a good thing to be close with your family. It's just that I'm not ready to live with them permanently. I need a certain degree of freedom. That's the one thing you will have to accept when you marry me."

She nodded. "I know, I know." She sighed. "It's just that things would be … easier for me the other way, sometimes. It's really hard to stand up to Father again and again when he starts saying nasty things about you."

"Well, yes, I believe it is. You know, you're still free to decide as long as we're not yet married. If you feel you can't stand being torn between me and your family forever, just say so."

"_Mick, please!" _she cried out in anguish. "Don't say that. I want you, more than anything else in the world. It's only … I simply wish sometimes that I had entirely ordinary parents, the kind that don't need to be treated with kid gloves. It can get pretty strenuous to try and defend you and find explanations when Father starts asking why you're doing this and not that and why you're seeing things this way and not another. You know he's still got a lot of misgivings about you because you're American and I have to keep telling him that you're a perfectly trustworthy and honest man, not some dubious kind of stranger. And my mother … she likes you a lot, but … well, you know what she's like on her bad days. Please don't blame me if I sometimes feel it's all getting too much for me."

She gave me a pleading look, and I felt guilty for what I'd said earlier, even more so when she added, "My decision has been made the moment you asked me, Mick. And of course I do know that you and my father would never get along under the same roof. It's only the thought of you being so far away for so long that kills me right now and makes me want to find another solution … and … and …" Her lips trembled as if she was about to cry.

"'And' what, Nellie?" I asked gently and kissed her forehead as I took both of her hands in mine and held them close to my heart. "What else?"

"I'm so afraid something might … happen to you. Something … bad", she whispered. "I'm afraid your ship could be damaged and sink or you might get injured at work or fall overboard or get some awful disease."

"Well, I can't deny there are certain dangers to being a sailor, but I might just as well have been shipwrecked somewhere off the Spanish coast on my previous trips. And people have fallen down their own stairs at home and broken their necks. Life is always dangerous in a way", I said. "Don't worry too much, love. I'll be back alive and whole. I promise."

"As if that was something you could promise", she replied with a crooked half-smile. "Oh, Mick, how I wish I was six months older and you were back home safely."

"I will be, Nellie, I will be." I stopped her from voicing more concerns by kissing her tenderly, and she pressed herself tightly against me, gripping the back of my neck with both hands, her fingers buried in my hair, her mouth melting into mine.

My own heart grew heavy at the thought of being away for all those long months, but I tried to find a bit of comfort in the fact that the job was a necessary means to a beautiful end, and in the image in my mind's eye of Nell in a white gown and veil, flowers in her hand and in her hair, slowly walking towards me.

Later, at the dinner table, Nell wasn't able to conceal her upset state of mind.

Her mother, unusually talkative, inquired what was the matter and whether she had been crying, and Nell had blurted out the news of my new job and what a mixed blessing it was. And that we had all but set a wedding date.

Her mother's solemn features broke into a rare smile. "My little girl is really getting married", she said with a dreamy expression on her face. And, to me, "I know you are a good man for my Gwenna. You'll never let her down, and you'll always treat her well."

I inclined my head for a second, lowering my eyes, and looked back up at Nell. She met my gaze with eyes so full of love and tenderness that it almost broke my heart to think I'd be leaving in a few days' time.

When I said goodbye that evening, the woman who would be my mother-in-law did something that Nell later told me she had never done to anyone who wasn't close family: she kissed me on both cheeks, drew a small cross on my forehead with her thumb and said quietly, "God bless you, Mick Carpenter. May he keep you safe all through your long journey."

I was eerily moved by this simple gesture sprung from the faith Nell's mother was deeply rooted in, as people hereabouts were traditionally.

"Uh … thank you, Madame Kervennec", I said, not sure what to say in response. "All the best for you and … and your family."

I kissed Nell goodbye on the doorstep, but the touch I felt lingering on my face as I made my way home along the coast was Mathilde Kervennec's blessing.


	2. Farewell My Sailor

I have selected another song to go with Nell's part of this story. It is "Salut Marin" by Carla Bruni, which sums up her feelings about Mick's departure very well. I have tried my hand at a rough translation, which probably isn't particularly good, but the lyrics are very lovely and I wanted the non-French speakers among my readers to grasp the gist, too. I've added the original lyrics at the end of this story.

_Goodbye sailor, may the winds be good  
You've packed your bags, you've set your sails  
I know you won't be coming back  
They say the wind and the stars  
Saltier than a trade wind  
Headier than a mistral  
Goodbye sailor, you will be missed  
Your blue eyes, your air of an admiral_

_Goodbye sailor, may the winds be good  
I wish you good winds but it hurts me  
For, sailor, you're carrying with you (…)  
All our rainbow-coloured plans  
And from Cap Horn to Étretat  
From Le Havre to the beaches of Goa  
The horizon remembers you_

_You sailors, you are all like that  
You don't know anything but to leave  
You sailors, you are cruel men  
You leave us alone with memories of you ...  
_

_A sailor's life passes quietly  
As it did in the old days (…)  
Sometimes it's all high rolling seas  
And sometimes the waves are gentle  
Well, I do what I'm expected to  
I live calmly at the edge of the abyss  
Sailor, you'll be proud, I know  
I'm living on (…), the wind in my sea chest  
Just like you_

* * *

Nell stood on the pier in Brest harbour, her hair lightly ruffled by the wind and her heart heavy as a rock.

The time had come.

He was leaving.

He had just given her a last kiss, and now she was watching him walk up the gangway, a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Another sailor greeted him as he went on board, and he turned and blew her a kiss before disappearing inside.

She returned the gesture with a shaky hand and a weak smile.

As she lowered her hand, she wondered how she had managed to see him off without blubbing ceaselessly. She told herself severely not to start crying now because she'd never be able to stop once she began, but although his ship hadn't even pulled out of port and the long journey he'd embarked on hadn't even quite started yet, her stomach had already coiled up into a tight knot of anxiety and loneliness which she was sure would not dissolve until he was back home.

She had always had trouble keeping her mind off the dangers a ship's crew encountered daily when he had been travelling, but with him gone for so long in one running, with little chance even at a regular exchange of postcards or letters, she seriously doubted she wouldn't be going mad with worry. So many horrible things threatened a sailor's life permanently. Storms, tempests, technical failures, fires, leaks, to say nothing of those stupid little momentous accidents that sometimes happened so fast.

Her brother was standing next to her, sensing her misery and hugging her clumsily in an attempt to comfort her, but in a way that only made things worse, and she sniffled after all, but bit back the urge to let her tears flow because she didn't want Loïc to see her cry.

The _Liberté_ shuddered, and her engines began to hum.

Staring at the seagull perched on top of a flagpole with narrowed eyes, she concentrated on keeping her composure and almost started when her brother laughed and exclaimed, "Hey, Gwenna, _look!_ There he is!"

Mick's familiar shape had appeared back on deck. He was exchanging curt shouted commands with someone Nell couldn't see, then turned and waved. She realized belatedly he wasn't waving at her but at the bulky man on the edge of the pier who was about to loosen one of the ropes tethering the large vessel to the land.

The docker finally tossed the end of the rope over, and Mick caught it in mid-air with one swift move of his hand and began to coil it up expertly while he looked about, eventually catching her eye.

"_I love you, Mick!"_ It had rushed out of her before she could even think. A few people around her laughed, a woman smiled, her brother blushed in embarrassment.

Mick smiled and waved. This time it was for her, although he didn't seem to have heard her words over the din of the engines.

When the ship had cast off and shrunk to toy size in the distance, heading for the narrow port entrance framed by steep cliffs, she couldn't help but give a trembling sob of loneliness.

The red-haired woman who had smiled at her earlier and was still standing close by squeezed her arm. "It's always awful when they leave, isn't it?" she said compassionately. "I remember the first time my Louis went. I thought I'd die right here on the pier."

Nell nodded miserably. "Oh, yes." She sniffled again. "I'm so afraid something might happen to him", she found herself saying.

"Don't take it so hard, dear. Le Bihan have never lost a ship since they started operating twenty years ago. He'll be back for you. Don't cry too much."

Between Loïc and that kindly stranger, Nell managed to get a grip on herself and didn't shed another tear on the bus home and somehow got through the rest of the day.

At night, everything came rushing back at her.

She was unable to sleep, lying on her back in the darkness of her tiny bedroom which was little more than a bit of space curtained off from the upstairs room her parents slept in. She stared idly at the small white dots of the stars glittering at an infinite distance in the rectangle of black night sky she could see outside the small window. He'd be looking at those very stars from aboard his ship. She tried to find a wee bit of solace in the thought that they were still living under the same skies and might be looking up at the same constellations at the same time without knowing it.

Her fears weren't dispelled easily, though. She implored God with all her might to guard and protect him, but what could a few words, however ardently they were murmured into the night, really do? Would He listen to her pleas to guide the man she loved back home safely? With so many prayers going unanswered, why should He choose to hear hers, of all people?

Yet, what else could she do but hope and pray?

_Mick, _she whispered tonelessly into the night. _Oh, Mick. Why did you have to go?_

She knew he had been right about wanting them to live on their own, just the two of them. She appreciated the sacrifices he was ready to make so that their dream would come true very soon. He hadn't been too enthusiastic about parting for so long either, even though she knew how much he loved being at sea.

He had also been right to assume that she was dying to escape the influence of her father rather today than tomorrow, and she was glad about the prospect of leading a self-determined life away from him, and with the man she loved.

But she hated, hated, _hated_ the prospect of going without Mick for an endless half-year.

She tried to tell herself she could keep herself busy working on the house linens they would need, and by the New Year, she'd go see Marianne Delacourt to have her measurements taken for the wedding dress. She already had a clear view in her mind of what she wanted to look like, and she tried to picture herself in a simple lace-trimmed dress, arm in arm with Mick in a dark suit. He'd be even more beautiful than usual in bridegroom's attire, and for a moment a warm glow of happy anticipation spread inside her chest.

It wasn't long until other, unwanted thoughts pushed their way in and swept the beautiful scene aside, replaced it with an icy fear.

What if she waited in vain?

What if disaster struck, like when Nolwenn Bailly's fiancé had drowned fishing just a few days before they were supposed to be married?

What if she suffered through half a year without him, maybe even without a word of him, only to be left with nothing in the end but a few sweet memories and a painful void in her life and in her heart?

She was unable to shake that cold dark feeling and didn't get a wink of sleep that night, all kinds of worries racing through her head, so that she greeted the first dim light of dawn gratefully, like rays of hope, and her mind settled on one particular memory.

It had been a similar sleepless night a week ago, spent fretting over his fate at sea, when she had made an important decision.

She might have to get through that lean period that was stretching ahead of her eternally before they'd be together for good, but there was one thing she was not going to put off until he was back or until they were married.

One thing that she had suddenly felt she wanted to do before he left, or she would regret it forever if – God forbid! – the worst should happen.

She had got up and splashed her face with cold water to wake herself up fully, changed into a blouse and skirt and went downstairs for the family's usual early breakfast, pale, bleary-eyed, but with a fine smile playing around her lips.

She remembered all this very clearly, just as she remembered what had happened a few days later.

* * *

The weather was unusually warm. Nell was sweating profusely as she swept the floors and washed the downstairs windows. She wiped her damp forehead with her upper arm and tried in vain to push a stubborn tendril back under the cotton kerchief she'd tied around her head in a vain attempt at keeping the dust out of her hair.

Her mother and Loïc were out to pay a visit to her grandmother, who hadn't been well lately.

Mother's condition had improved with the weather during the last few weeks, and for the first time in months, she had felt strong enough to go and spend a day at Grandmère's to help her make jam and tidy up a bit around the house while Loïc took care of some small repairs. They were going to stay for supper, too.

Secretly rejoicing, Nell had offered to stay at home under the pretext of giving the house a good cleaning. Well, it hadn't just been a pretext, she had really been slogging away for hours, but it had certainly not been the main reason for staying at home.

She was startled to see just when she was giving the second kitchen window its final polish, the main reason was about to arrive, a lot earlier than expected, and she was anything but ready.

Hastily, she tried to make herself presentable by pulling the faded kerchief off her head and shoving it into the pocket of her apron, but she must look even more dishevelled now with all the disorderly strands that had escaped her hairpins. She raised a hand to remove the pins but stopped mid-movement when she realized how grubby her fingers were.

Thus she was cutting a rather ridiculous figure when Mick appeared in the open door, his eyes dancing and his mouth widening in a big grin at the sight of her impossible getup.

"Mick! You're already here! I hadn't expected you until four!" she exclaimed stupidly and let her hand sink slowly.

"So you're not happy to see me?" he replied in a mock miffed voice as he leaned casually against the doorjamb.

"Of course I am!" she protested. "It's just that I look a mess! I had thought I'd be long finished cleaning by the time you came. I wanted …"

"You look wonderful, Nellie."

"No, I don't, not in that dress and with dirt all over me. Whatever I'm looking, it's certainly not wonderful."

"To me, you are. Give me a kiss."

She hesitated, rubbing her sweaty forehead.

"Come _on, _love. A bit of dust won't kill me." He held out his arms, and she wiped her hands on her apron and let him pull her close, ugly dress and unkempt hair and all.

She was acutely aware of the warmth of his skin and the hard muscles of his chest under the thin russet-coloured shirt he was wearing.

That prickling sensation, down low in her belly, had been there before when he was around, but never so intense, and on a sudden impulse, she moved even closer, firmly wrapping her arms around him, moulded her body against his tightly, following nothing but this strange new urge deep within, this primeval appetite that surely wasn't something a good modest girl was supposed to feel.

But she didn't care any more. She had been brought up to believe in premarital chastity, as parents and society and church had taught her, but lately she had begun to wonder if it was really such a sin to share your body with the man you loved before you were officially married.

Shouldn't it rather be the love and trust that counted instead of the ring and the vows and the official blessing?

That sleepless night a few days ago, she had known with sudden clarity that she wanted to lose herself to him completely, finally wanted their bodies to be united just as their minds and hearts had been for so long.

When her mother had conveniently made those plans to go and see Grandmère and take Loïc with her, she'd been quick to invite him for the later afternoon when she still had the house to herself and her mother and brother weren't due to return for a few hours.

She had intended for him to come after she had finished her house-cleaning and washed and changed into a pretty dress and maybe put a flower into her hair. She had wanted to be particularly desirable to him, and when she had seen him approach while she was still in her horrible old working clothes, she'd almost panicked.

But now she found it didn't matter at all what she wore or that she was all flushed and grimy.

She sensed he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

He was still holding her tight, but one of his hands had moved down to rest on her backside. She loved the touch of his warm hand there.

She was a little surprised to feel a gentle pressure against her stomach until she realized, blushing, what it must be, and that she wanted to touch him there.

He was covering her face with sweet light kisses, his lips trailing from her temple down to her mouth, the tip of his tongue brushing hers very softly. A delightful shiver ran down her spine, and she gave a little moan before she broke away.

Startled, he asked, "Anything wrong?"

"Not at all. I want you to come with me." She took him by the hand and led him across the room and up the stairs.

Even more nonplussed, he walked along obediently. "What … do you … oh!" He seemed to fully realize her intention only when she pushed back the curtain that shielded her sleeping quarters from view, and he looked at her intently. "Are you really sure you want to do this?"

She nodded, eagerly, impatiently.

"I mean, you know what … can happen … and how that would reflect on you?" he insisted. "I'll try to be careful but I can't promise …"

"It won't happen this one time, I'm sure. And so what if it does. You'll marry me anyway, won't you?"

"Of course I will."

"Then let's talk no more", she said decisively, closing the curtain and leaning into him for another deep kiss.

He was now searching her hair for the remaining pins and pulled them out one by one, putting them carefully onto the nightstand. She enjoyed the tickling of one strand of hair after the other falling down over her neck and shoulders and busied herself unbuttoning his shirt and untucking it from his shorts. He wasn't wearing anything underneath because it was so hot outside, and she rested her face against his suntanned chest, stroked the soft dark hair that grew there and listened to his heart beating its steady rhythm, a little slower than her own quickened pulse.

He reached down behind her, untying the strings of her apron – why hadn't she at least taken off the silly thing? – and taking it off her, at the same time stepping out of his shoes to reveal his feet, large and strong, but still graceful and nicely shaped, like his hands.

She watched him breathlessly for a moment. What a handsome man he was, even more so now that he wasn't wearing anything but a pair of dark shorts that showed off his long bronzed legs beautifully.

Pushing his shoes under the bed with one foot, he kissed her once more, then proceeded to peel the stained buff-coloured dress off her, let it drop around her feet and asked wordlessly for her permission before he removed her brassiere as well.

She felt a tiny bit awkward but also very excited, standing there almost naked.

He stepped back for a moment to admire her. "Oh, Nellie. What a beauty you are."

She smiled a little insecurely, looking down at his shorts. He undid his belt and fly and drew her close again, slid one hand slowly down her back to make all the fine hairs stand on end and slipped it into the back of her knickers, lingering on her behind for a moment before undressing her completely and taking off his own shorts.

He bent down to kiss the little indentation between her collarbones, making his way down towards her breast, and an intense feeling of wild desire flared up within her as his lips closed around the nipple.

She hadn't imagined it to be like that, to feel this way. So all-consuming, so … so wonderful.

His fingers ran down the middle of her belly and on to the dark triangle of hair further down, venturing into that place nobody had ever touched before. Her body was tingling all over, and she gave another little sound of pleasure.

He got her to lie down on the bed, taking his place by her side, caressing her, nuzzling her other breast, kissing her mouth once more, then moved gently on top of her and began to push into her gradually, very slowly, very carefully.

From what she'd heard some of the village girls say between bashful giggles, their mouths half covered with their hands, she had thought it would hurt and get rather unpleasant before you enjoyed it, but it wasn't like that at all. The slow, deliberate movement inside her was easily the most outlandish and the most beautiful she'd ever felt.

Instinctively, she began to move along, her hands on his back, reared up against his weight, going faster as that delicious feeling within her mounted, surged, built up into a giant wave that suddenly crashed with an explosion of white lights in her head and left her tired and satisfied in a way that was as new to her as everything else that had just happened.

Afterwards, he lay next to her for a while, lazily playing with her hair. None of them spoke for a long time.

"I'll be so happy to wake up next to you every morning", she said eventually, looking deeply into those green eyes sprinkled with bits of gold and of hazel brown.

"And me. I can hardly wait", he said, kissing her yet again and propping himself up on one elbow to squint at the small alarm clock on her nightstand. "Jeez, Nellie, it's almost six. Guess I'd better go now. Imagine your mom coming home!"

She sighed. "She shouldn't be coming home quite yet, but yes, we'd better be on the safe side. Oh, I'm so tired of all those goodbyes", she said woefully.

"That'll all be over very soon after I'm back", he replied in a soothing voice. "Just the one big goodbye to get over with, and after that, I'm all yours."

"Except for the umpteen times you'll be sailing off somewhere", she retorted a little more crabbily than necessary. His remark had reminded her unpleasantly of the dreaded day of farewell drawing nearer mercilessly when she had just happily forgotten about it.

"I'll stop sailing off somewhere the minute I can afford my own boat. I promise", he said as he got up and put his clothes back on. "You can be my deckhand, and we'll be together all the time. If you want to, that is."

She had also risen from the bed and was getting dressed again. "Oh, yes, why don't we live on the boat altogether?" she said, rolling her eyes. "I wonder where you get all your silly ideas, Mr. Carpenter."

He raised one eyebrow and winked at her, and she smiled in spite of herself.

How she'd miss his gentle teasing, along with everything else.

She had a lump in her throat when she saw him off on the doorstep – only two days to go after today until he'd be leaving.

Her heart constricted when she tried to imagine five or six long months alone, without a touch, without a word, without a smile. She'd have to live off the memories they'd made until she heard from him, until he'd write, which he'd promised to do whenever he got the chance to.

She couldn't quite see how memories and letters alone should pull her through, but if there was one memory she'd certainly cling to, it was the recollection of this afternoon. It had been so wonderful to become one like that. Nobody could take this experience away from her.

There was still a pleasant afterglow down there, and she wondered if anyone would notice a change about her. She went to her small pockmarked mirror and looked at her face. It appeared unusually luminous and serene to her own eyes, but maybe her perception was tinted by her emotions and a casual onlooker wouldn't see anything but a girl who needed to comb her hair and change her dress, not at all different from the girl she'd been a couple of hours before.

She went back into the kitchen. The bucket she'd been using was still sitting on the floor beneath the windowsill, and she had just thrown out the dirty water when her mother and her brother came around the bend in the road.

They had hardly entered the kitchen, admired how everything was spick and span after Nell's efforts, and told Nell how Grandmère was and that she hoped she'd come and see her some time soon, when there was a knock on the doorframe.

Nell couldn't help grinning when she saw the familiar tall figure on the doorstep.

"Thought I'd drop by and see if Nellie was in the mood for a walk", he said innocently, and Nell flew into his arms and off they went.

"What's the matter with Gwenna?" her brother mused to himself. "Usually, she wouldn't be found dead with that ugly frock on, always fussing about what she's wearing ..."

"She's pretty enough no matter what she wears", his mother said with a quiet smile. "Didn't you think she looked particularly lovely tonight, despite that dress?"

* * *

When the palest rim of light became visible along the horizon, Nell awoke from the slumber that had finally overcome her some time past midnight.

She thought of him instantly, a diffuse half-sleepy realization that he was gone now, but there was also a warm and fuzzy feeling left over from a dream she'd had but couldn't remember. She only knew it had been something of a replay of that afternoon three days ago.

It had indeed been the right decision to make, a more appropriate farewell gift to give him than any photograph or keepsake.

She laid one hand flat on her belly, wishing against better judgment that he had not been as careful as he had promised to be and there had been an as yet unknown farewell gift for her. She knew it was a foolish thing to wish for, but still ...

With a little smile, she went back to sleep and dreamed of a small boy with dark curly hair riding into a turquoise sea on his father's shoulders.

* * *

_Salut marin, bon vent à toi  
Tu as fait ta malle, tu a mis les voiles  
Je sais que tu n'reviendras pas  
On dit que le vent, des étoiles  
Et plus salé qu'un alizé  
Plus entêtant qu'un mistral  
Au revoir marin, tu vas manquer  
Tes yeux bleus, ton air d'amiral_

_Salut marin, bon vent à toi  
J'te dis bon vent mais ça m'fait mal  
Car marin tu emportes avec toi (…)  
Tous nos projets d'arc en ciel  
Et du Cap Horn à Étretat  
Du Havre aux plages de Goa  
L'horizon à toi se rappelle  
_

_Vous, les marins, vous êtes ainsi  
Vous ne savez rien d'autre que partir  
Vous, les marins, vous êtes cruels  
Vous nous laissez au large de vos souvenirs … _

_La vie marin passe sans bruit  
Comme autrefois (…)  
Quelquefois c'est la houle et le roulis  
Et quelquefois la vague est douce  
Alors je fais comme il se doit  
Je vis tranquille au bord d'un précipice  
Marin tu serais fier je crois  
Je vis de faze, le vent aux trousses  
Tout comme toi_


End file.
